She played the violin like a cello.

I sat alone in the car.
I clicked the phone charger into the cigarette lighter.

I heard the muffled banter of musicians.
Carrying instruments.
Blind to me.

The phone yawned into life.
It had but one message.
“I am here! :-)”

My blood sped up.

Was she HERE here, or at the train station here?
I turned the key.
I put the car into reverse,
rested my arm around the passenger seat head rest
like mates do
and looked over my shoulder.

And there she was.

Smiling, at the horizon.

I had nearly driven along another mistake.
This time, I instead, killed the engine.

I stepped out into an unfamiliar world
and turned to her.

She heard the door
click
and span around
Smiling at me.

She ran to me.
We embraced.
We fit like fingers.
Thumbs twiddling excitedly.

Later we sat watching musicians play.

Blind to me.

They pulled stories out of the air.
In a language I love but
will never understand.

She walks over to the violinist
Her skirt like a curtain over a sunset.

I watch as she whispers into a trained ear
and is handed the violin.

She sits.
Pert.
Bright.
And so damn pretty.

With a confused but proud violin
upright between bare knees

Closes her eyes.
Lifts the horse hair.
Falls behind hers.
And into their song.

Her voice joins theirs
the song frees itself from it's cocoon
and spirals into the night sky

I stare at her
like a street lamp.

And for a moment

I'm in love.

And she?


She smiles at the horizon.